


fifteen percent concentrated power of will

by unicornduke



Category: The Posterchildren - Kitty Burroughs
Genre: Gen, Maks Whump, keeping secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-06-24
Packaged: 2017-12-15 23:38:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/855285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unicornduke/pseuds/unicornduke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maks was a long way from home and safety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	fifteen percent concentrated power of will

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the middle of Origins, before the Night Games. 
> 
> Not beta'd because I wanted to get it out into the wilds of the internet. 
> 
> Uhh, enjoy, I guess.

It was just past the start of dinner when Maks made it back to his cabin.

 

He staggered into the bathroom and locked the door, triple checking it before he plopped down on the closed toilet. He let his head fall forward for a minute, carefully stretching the muscles in his neck. It felt incredible, letting all the anxious pressure leak out of his head.

 

After the moment he gave himself to relax, Maks stood up and moved in front of the mirror and slowly peeled his shirt off.

 

His back and legs were covered in bruises, ugly, red swollen things that stood out in the pale light against his skin. Most were hand and fist shaped with one huge boot-shaped one wrapping over his shoulder. That would be the hardest to hide with how close it was to the collar of his shirt. The others would turn awful blues and purples in a few days, but his clothes hid them plenty well, which was something his attackers took advantage of.

 

Maks ran his hands over his back, poking and checking to make sure he wasn't bleeding. There was only one cut, about three inches long and it was high on his chest where he collided with a rock during the incident.

 

For once it wasn't his fault. He'd minded his own business, didn't flirt with anyone (other than June and Ernest and Rosario and Jack and _never mind_ ). Didn't flirt with anyone who was _dating someone_ , he'd left Ida Mae to do her own thing and did his schoolwork.

 

That didn't really explain why on the way to dinner, someone had ambushed him from behind, smashing something across the back of his head and beating the hell out of him.

 

With a wince, Maks ran his fingers over the knot on the back of his head. It didn't hurt too badly, just headache level. His hand came back clean of blood.

 

This was the third seemingly unprovoked attack on him, not including the one Ernest had rescued him from on the first day. Either Maks was the target in a bad game of smear the queer or the other posters thought he was a competitor for one of the capstone spots.

 

Given how the attackers never let Maks see their faces, he'd bet on the second one. That was good. It meant he had a chance. But that _didn't matter_.

 

Maks leaned on the sink, gripping it as hard as he could. Sparks flew around him in a whirlwind, his anger and fear channeled into the flickering of the energy. It was so unfair. He tried to hard to be nice to people. All the new people, from different places and different cultures. He tried so hard. And then they did _this_.

 

For an instant, a single instant, Maks thought about leaving. He could travel, meeting new people who wouldn't try and kill him, who wouldn't pound his face into the ground for a chance to get ahead.

 

But reality hit him harder. Maks _had_ to be at Foundation. He was dangerous, a threat to _normal_ people if he didn't keep himself under control.

 

He swiped angrily at the tears snaking their way down his face. He was _fine_. He had friends, like June and Ernest and Zip. And his parents would be proud of him. Maks was on his own, learning new things, meeting new people.

 

That's what they would have wanted.

 

~~

 

On the second day after, Maks looked into the mirror to see the bootprint had turned an awful purple overnight and was showing over his collar.

 

Rummaging around under the sink, he pulled out the small makeup kit he had prepared after the first attack. It held foundation and concealer for the bruises but also small containers of the stage makeup left over from the circus. His mother had been the first to teach him how to put it on, playing a child clown with the white face and red nose. Then later, the dramatic highlights to his eyes and face to make an impression as one of the acrobats and performers. It was comforting sometimes, to sort through the bottles and remember the look of concentration on her face as she applied it. But he never used those ones.

 

He sighed and slowly pulled his shirt off, testing the range of motion his arms got. Thankfully, it was only bruises and wouldn't keep him from training for long. So instead of doing his normal acrobat routine with tumbling, flipping and jumping, Maks had been doing the dexterity ones he normally neglected. Juggling, flicking coins between his fingers, tying and untying knots. Things he could do without putting pressure on the bruises.

 

Putting the foundation on with smooth rubs, Maks plotted a course that would keep him away from Ernest for most of the day. For as big a worry-wort as he was, Ernest was also incredibly observant. He was the one who might notice the makeup on his neck.

 

Nothing he could do but distract and delay.

 

~~

 

“Maks!” June yelled. “Where have you been?” She stuck her hands on her hips and stared him down.

 

“Juney!” Maks grinned at her. “Busy, busy. Why have you missed me?”

 

She gave him the Eyebrow. “I have to do another fitting on your costume. With the Night Games coming up in a few weeks, I'm not going to have _any_ time work on them. So,” she snapped her fingers at him, “Tonight, at the Wright's house. Fashion.”

 

“But Juuuuune, I've got stuff to do,” Maks whined, hoping to cover the spike of anxiety. The bruises on him hadn't cleared up yet, only four days since he'd been attacked. The _last_ thing he needed was to undress in front of June and have her freak on him. And then bring the wrath of protective Ernest down on him. “I've got like six assignments that I've been putting off.” He threw an arm around her shoulders and kissed her on the cheek. “Maybe this weekend?”

 

June narrowed her eyes at him and for a second, Maks thought she had seen right through him. But she pulled him in for a real hug and then ruffled his hair. “Alright. I'll tell Ernest to break out the delicious, delicious baked goods and we'll make a slumber party of it.”

 

Maks let out a whoop. “Awesome!”

 

In the background, the bells for class rang.

 

“Gotta go! See ya June!”

 

Maks ran off, focusing on the pounding of the blood rushing through his veins. Bullet dodged.

 

~~

 

The Commander was out when Maks arrived at the Wright's house, off doing something official somewhere. June might have told him where but it wasn't really important.

 

Maks burst through the door at a full sprint, yelling a greeting at June as he passed her on the couch and leapt onto Ernest's back to cling there. “Hey,” he said, breathlessly. Maks was positive that someone had tried to get him on his way over but breaking into a run had gotten him away.

 

Ernest didn't even move, solid muscle and poster power that he was. He dropped another spoonful of cookie dough before setting his spoon down and patting Maks' hand. “Hey, Maks. What's the rush?”

 

“Nothing! Just wanted to get here faster,” Maks said, wriggling up enough to grab a blob of cookie dough and pop it in his mouth. Ernest swatted at his hand with the spoon. But gently. Like he did every time.

 

“You're not going to be able to fit into the costume I'm making you if you keep that up,” June said from behind them.

 

Ernest snorted. “You'd just fix it until he did,” he said, continuing setting the dough blobs on the cookie sheet.

 

Maks leaned back and smiled at June. She was looking cheerful today, not as stressed as at the last fitting. He shuddered. Those _bees._

 

“Yeah, but then I'd have to have him stand for _more_ fittings.” June said, looking adorable and cranky and huggleable (shut _up,_ it was totally a word) and Maks couldn't stand it, she was so cute.

 

He hopped off Ernest and skipped over to her. Just before he could throw his arms around her, June held up a hand. “Maks, you can hug me only if you promise to stand still during the fitting. And I mean _still._ ”

 

Whoa, that was going too far. Holding hugs hostage? Awful, terribly awful, how dare June do that! Maks turned to someone who might help.

 

“Eeeeerneeeeest, she won't let me hug her,” Maks whined, flapping his hands at Ernest's back.

 

“I think June is allowed to pick who she wants to hug,” Ernest said, the _plop_ of dough punctuating his words.

 

“Meanie,” Maks stood there, arms crossed. He wanted the hugs. But June and _pins._

 

June just stared him down, her arms crossed too. She would never ever give in. Ugh.

 

“Fiiiiine,” Maks said, “Fine, I'll stand stiiiill.” He bounced over and wrapped his arms around June. She did the same, pulling him close and giving him all sorts of fuzzy feelings. They were fuzzy and warm and lovely and Maks really, really liked hugging June. And Ernest. And Zip. And his aunts. And lots of people.

 

“Now, c'mon,” June said, unwrapping him and dragging him upstairs. “We've got shit to do before we can eat all of Ernest's baking.”

 

Ernest's bedroom looked like a craft store had barfed in there, with the amount of fabrics, ribbons and sharp pointy things everywhere. Maks was pretty sure there was supposed to be a bed, but it was hard to tell under the mound of cloth on it. June pointed him to the torture corner, a small cleared space where two full length mirrors were propped up against the wall.

 

“Clothes off,” she said, already gathering handfuls of pins. Maks saluted her and complied, quickly stripping down. But before he finished, she whipped a hand in his direction, following up with a June Glare (TM). “Boxers, _on._ ”

 

“But you said-”

 

“NO, Maks,” June picked up the fabric that would be his costume. “Now, in the corner. Don't make me bring out the bees.”

 

Maks heaved a sigh. When he took his place, he sneaked a glance in the mirrors at his back. It looked like the bruises were all gone so he was home free.

 

From there, June set to work and Maks did his best not to fidget. It was _hard_ , okay? And he wanted to catch up on the exercises he missed last week. And June smelled nice. And so did Ernest's room. Maks concentrated _really_ hard on not moving. He was concentrating so hard, thinking about all kinds of still things (lakes and rocks and houses), he didn't notice June smoothing a hand over the healing slice on his chest, a frown creasing her lovely face.

 

It wasn't until much later, after eating dinner and baked goods, after cuddles on the couch (so much cuddling, it was _awesome_ ), after a movie, that June pulled Maks aside and pulled his sleep shirt up.

 

“What is this from?” She hissed, tapping just above the cut.

 

Maks rolled his eyes. She _did_ notice, sneaky June. “I was practicing the other day down by the lake, and then there was this girl and she was feeding the cats.” He wiggled his fingers at June for a second. “Then she picked a cat up and was petting it. _I_ was walking around in a handstand and being safe and then she let the cat go. _And it floated_.” Maks wiggled back into his shirt. “It surprised me and then I fell into a fence.” He pulled a cute face. “Oops.”

 

“Alright,” June said after a moment of staring Maks down like she could wrestle the truth out of him with her brain, “I believe you.”

 

“Good,” Maks said with a bright grin, grabbing her hand and pulling her along, “We can get more Ernest snuggles before we go to sleep.”

 

He didn't feel bad about the lie, after all, it wasn't going to happen again.

 

 

~END~


End file.
